And one dog. And one cat. You would be closing in on 100.
Happy birthday, Baca!
What reminds me of you the most?
Burda. Kiwi. Blackcurrant. Cottage cheese. Umag. Opera, especially Madame Butterfly. Love of Italy. Beautiful Vida, a poem in many languages. Your stories of three sisters, of which you were the middle.
How you celebrated good blood sugar test results for your diabetes by having a cake.
How you described scampi to me, moving your little finger to mimic one.
How you played cards nightly with my grandpa for Pounds Sterling. How you held hands on that photo from the island Hvar in Croatia where you did your summering.
How you ended up in the same hospital room as the grandma of my first crush. I shouldn’t have told you all that, who knows what all you two talked about! Nah. It was good. This way we could both come and visit you together.
Your daughter has just been here with her first husband, as she likes to joke. And your son will come too, after Morocco and Turkey, and that was just in the last couple of months, and take me and bestia to Slovenia.
And now look at all these flowers and colours! They are just for you. Cin cin!